


sweet dreams are made of this

by Eolien



Series: just a taste of what you've paid for [1]
Category: Original Work, Warriors - Erin Hunter
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Chess Metaphors, Dreams, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-19
Updated: 2017-08-19
Packaged: 2018-12-16 23:02:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11838828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eolien/pseuds/Eolien
Summary: He speaks with an unnatural lilt, as if the tongue is alien. It almost is, dragging down word for word until he cannot go on. As if he is not allowed to speak them. As if he does not want to ask.(Eivan does not.)“Why," he breathes, afraid and almost inaudible, "are you here, Lucius?”





	sweet dreams are made of this

**Author's Note:**

> (some of them want to abuse you /some of them want to be abused)

 Strange things, his dreams these days. Eivan absently rubs the arm of the mahogany chair under him, expecting something to be off. He can find none: the touch is perfect, wood neither cool nor warm, carved of faint fine lines. The stack of documents and whatnot that he had given up on before he retreated to his quarters are placed on the desk in front of him, forming the exact picture of his office as of the night before.

 He does not think to stand up from the chair; Eivan feels as if he is waiting for something in it, for the usual restlessness that catches up with him at the awkwardest moments does not emerge in the slightest. Instead, there is this peculiar anticipation, lined with an eerie echo brimming in his mind; he instinctually knows that he is expecting something, yet he cannot fathom _what_.

 A glint of light catches his eye and Eivan bucks up from his seat when he sees amber. The dark man who simply appears on the other side of the desk lounges indolently in the chair, gracefully sprawled from limb to limb. Even so, his posture demands a certain attention, long legs crossed in an impeccable angle that persistently radiates an authorative aura. Lucius Crest seems every inch of the power and might that the man had once reached.

 Before he had bled to death, right before Eivan’s own eyes.

 “What are  _you_ here for, Crest?”

 The words are automatic as Eivan slams his hand down on his desk, snarling at and leaning towards the man. Crest scoffs, just as full of disdain and contempt as he remembers.

 “Still crude as ever, aren’t you.” Then, with a cock of his head, "Sit down and be polite, foolish child.” The man waves a chess piece that seems as if it had always been on the desk.

 Eivan does not yield. The dark man narrows his eyes and a low snarl resonates in the air; for some reason Eivan has the urge to bite back and he freely indulges himself, almost snarling with fury ablaze at the end of it. 

 “Ah, but you don't deserve my courtesies. Tell me, Crest, what made you think you could just barge in here?" 

 After all, this is his dream. Crest, and Crest alone is the intruder. He has no right here,  _how dare he?_  But amber glints eerily and Crest curls his lips into an ugly sneer. 

 “Then what do you have to say for yourself,  _waiting for me?_ " The response is off and at the same time, a chill runs across his back, overwriting his anger. The hate that had almost consumed him is genuine, but Eivan had never been so quick to burn. The aberration tugs at the back of his mind, providing enough discomfort to steer himself into safer waters. 

 When Eivan blinks clear with an odd expression, all the fury suddenly blown out like a candle, Crest shakes his head as if brushing aside the tension and gestures towards the chess board. “Come sit and play. You were the one who suspended this round, deal with it.”

 Eivan stares at the man in front of him, casual and so  _alive,_  hands so stable in movement.  _Suspended_ , the word echoes and he tries to remember why he would have ever started a game of chess with the dark man. Eivan slowly sits down in his seat again, fluidly sinking into an unreadable mask. Eyes like molten gold glitter and something akin to satisfaction briefly flashes across Crest's dark brows.

 He eyes the board to find it sparse, fingers his white pawn, and takes the black bishop. Lucius Crest leers as his knight takes the white queen out. 

 “Not so attentive, are you?”

 “Or you should’ve known it was a trap, but of course you didn’t. Check.” Then with a sudden impulse, “But then you'd never cared to look around.”

 The white rook tears out the knight, placing itself directly in line of the black king. Crest narrows his eyes silently but loftily sidesteps the check; Eivan takes a move again with his pawn and his rook is taken off the board.

 It somewhat feels wrong, playing this game. Something is much too off about this, but Eivan does not know what. He only feels atypically lightheaded, almost as if he were in a trance.

 ( _The queen,_ something whispers from an unconscious corner of his mind.  _The queen, and the rook. Imogen and Magda._ )

 (But Eivan does not hear.)

 Silence follows through, only the small clatter of the pieces ringing softly in the office. It is Eivan who eventually wins the game, taking the king with a measured hand. He absently rolls the piece in his palm, ebony and crowned, smooth on his thumb. Looking up at the man now staring steadily at him, a strange sort of calm descends upon his hazy consciousness like a sheet of thin ice, both distancing and revealing the things underneath like a window looking outside. 

 The realization hits him then. 

 He speaks with an unnatural lilt, as if the tongue is alien. It almost is, dragging down word for word until he cannot go on. As if he is not allowed to speak them. As if he does not want to ask.

 (Eivan does not.)

“Why," he breathes, afraid and almost inaudible, "are you here,  _Lucius_?”

  _This is my dream_ , the rest goes unspoken. Eivan looks back up from the black king and meets dark gold. Lucius Crest watches him with guarded, appraising eyes that could have been genuinely curious if he did not know better. Amber holds green for a timeless moment.

 Then the man smiles, teeth and lips whole and sinister ( _and beautiful,_  a small part of Eivan whispers and in his mind he clasps his hands around his ears—)

 “I don't know, dearest Eivan. Why  _am_ I here?”

 And the dream shatters into shards of glass that glitters brilliant in the sudden white of the world—

 

-

 

Lucius is a pale shadow beside the bed, looking down at the unmoving figure. Eivan Flare sleeps like a log, dead to the world and he reaches down to his throat, bared and vulnerable. It is lithe enough to fit in his hand and Lucius tightens his grip. The man under his hand frowns but does not move; Lucius absently wonders if he will stay asleep when he snaps it. He eventually loosens his fingers, splaying and almost caressing it before he lets go. It isn’t time yet, and Lucius can wait a little longer until he can truly claim his life, once and for all. Bruises bloom dark, a delicate purple ring around the neck but it fades back after a brief moment, no trace to be left.

Only after the shadow disappears does Eivan wake, startled and distraught for no apparent reason. He surveys the room in a flash of paranoia, but nothing has been shifted from the day before and he falls back on the mattress heavily, staring up at the ceiling.

(The twisted nature of the dream lingers like a chill and he does not recognize it, he does not want to recognize it.)

No light shines through the windows; it is a moonless, ominous night.

**Author's Note:**

> okay so I have a serious thing for this ship and I think I've been shipping TigerFire since I was in grade 4 so whoops  
> Not exactly romantically because that would be definitely OOC and I'd hate it, but they're strong-tied with hostility and the killing instinct is active on both sides; they're practically fated enemies--they even die ending each other, what more do I have to say? 
> 
> They're a bit OOC here though, mostly because my writing gets out of hand every single time and this is a human AU in which they have given names, so I'm not letting them waste it. Thus, I kind of masked their hostility a bit more with subtle courtesies. Come on, they're human, adults, and nobility in this pseudo-medieval world AU I dropped them in.


End file.
